Greece’s return to parliamentary democracy wasn’t accompanied by checks, balances
In April of 1947, in the midst of the civil war, the leader of the Nationalist Party (renamed People’s Party in 1920), Theodoros Tourkovasilis, while speaking to the Greek Parliament, mentioned Switzerland in passing: “I was recently given the chance to admire this people and to see the fine organization of this state up close. Switzerland is indeed a masterpiece of a state. There, in Switzerland, there exists not communism, not socialism, not syndicalism, nothing at all that ends in ‘-ism.’”
Tourkovasilis (1891-1975) was no run-of-the-mill politician. Born in Arcadia, the descendant of a family of fighters in the 1821 Greek Revolution, he was a typical monarchist nationalist, with views that would today be considered far-right. Having repeatedly served as a minister in the inter-war period, he was also a friend of Ioannis Metaxas (PM and dictator of Greece from 1936 until his death in 1941) – who nevertheless exiled him in 1940 because he thought that Tourkovasilis had conspired against him. He also served as director of the Bank of Greece during the occupation and was jailed by the Germans for four months for having dared to organize the “Ochi Day” celebrations on October 28, 1943.
As leader of the People’s Party after Greece’s liberation from the German occupation, he managed to get 2.94% of the vote in the 1946 elections and was elected, along with eight of his political comrades, in the 4th Revisory Parliament. It was then that he beat up Achilles Kyrou, co-publisher of the Estia newspaper, in broad daylight, on Stadiou Street in central Athens, for having published a libelous piece against him. Tourkovasilis later teamed up with Konstantinos Maniadakis, Metaxas’ right-hand man and former chief of internal security, and even, as if by miracle, with Georgios Papandreou in 1961, but he ultimately failed to be elected to Parliament representing Arcadia, under the newly founded Center Union party.
An extinct species
The question at hand is, what is the difference between the Metapolitefsi era (1973-74, from the fall of the military junta, to the restoration of democracy) and the parliamentarianism of the inter-war and post-war periods? I believe the answer is clear: There no longer exist politicians with the beliefs or the mien of Tourkovasilis. The species is extinct. We may see people like Achilleas Beos, the mayor of Volos, getting elected, but they are not products of civil war-era fanaticism; rather, they are products of lumpen politics, as it has been recently termed, which differs from the far-right nationalism of the first half of the 20th century – which in the beginning was anti-republican, later anti-communist, and, finally, ludicrous for antics such as those of Beos. In any case, Tourkovasilis was not slapping around ordinary citizens in the streets for having protested against him.
Another difference between the Metapolitefsi and the previous era has to do with the treatment of each citizen’s ideology by the state. Having been first appointed to the Law School of Athens in 1980, I belong to the first generation of Greek university intellectuals who were not persecuted for their beliefs. In my more than four decades of tenure, if the teaching of constitutional law in our country suffered from anything, it was not the lack of academic freedom, but rather the “conscription” of many of us to the ranks of one party or another. Because there were not a few cases where this recruitment, no matter how noble the intentions of the “seduced” were, severely eroded the seriousness of the arguments and undermined the honesty of scientific dialogue. So, since 1974, at least in the field of academic pursuits, we’ve moved on from persecuting ideological dissenters to the institutionalization of party membership for the purpose of personal ambition.
Waving flags
Here is yet another indicative difference between the Metapolitefsi and the pre-dictatorship era of parliamentarianism: As the author Andreas Fragias has shown in an insurmountable way in his novels, while in the past the defeated hid their party flags to avoid persecution, after 1974 – and especially after 1981 – they waved them in order to get civil service jobs, a bank loan or a government contract.
In short, the Metapolitefsi era signaled the end, not just of the dictatorship, but also of the two civil conflicts which, from 1915 until 1974, split Greek society in half: the National Schism (between republicans and monarchists) in the inter-war period, and the civil war (1946-1949) against communism. In 1974, Greece returned to parliamentary modernity, from which it had deviated when King Constantine I dismissed Prime Minister Eleftherios Venizelos in 1915. It is a major achievement, the importance of which was displayed not just by the gentle rise to power of the extremely radical PASOK (Panhellenic Socialist Movement) Party in 1981 – something unthinkable before 1967 – but also by the smooth changes in plurality during the era of memorandums, namely in 2015 and 2019. Few other countries could showcase such a positive record regarding the changes of parties in power.
If this is how things stand, then someone in their 30s might reasonably ask: If everything, as you say, was working almost perfectly, then how did we find ourselves on the brink of poverty and bankruptcy in 2010? And, in any case, why is it that a pervasive pessimism for the prospects of our democracy dominates the land?
Recently, at a Panteion University public event on where the Metapolitefsi era is heading, Dimitris Christopoulos, professor of political science, and other participants brought up the 120,000 acres of land on Evia that was burnt in 2021, the more than 200,000 acres that burnt in Evros in August 2023, and the floods that plagued Thessaly a month later.
Would it ever be possible for the Maximos Mansion, the Greek PM’s office, to be investigated for a possible scandal, by order of a prosecutor?
How are we to act in the face of the climate crisis, which doesn’t just threaten, but changes the way we live our lives? Have we learned from the precedent of Covid-19 and the pandemic that came with it, or do we stand at the precipice of repeating the mistakes which almost led us to an unspeakable disaster? In a Europe where the far right is rising, where will we find the safety net that, just as many times in the past, helped us avert catastrophes – domestic and international?
The deficits
I will not stop repeating that the main reason why our parliamentary democracy is still, unfortunately, lame is the lack of checks and balances; meaning independent institutions, equipped with the means to restrain arrogant single-party governments which could unfairly perpetuate their rule based on an obedient parliamentary majority.
As the example of the still unsolved 2022 Greek surveillance scandal shows, when independent authorities are not openly undermined, such as the Hellenic Authority for Communications Security and Privacy (ADAE), they are treated with suspicion, as if they were a necessary evil imposed on us by the “bad European Union” – whatever the reason may be, as the Avriani paper would say.
As for the judicial branch, another great counterweight to the omnipotence of those in power, I fear that its shortcomings are treated ineptly and without in-depth study. When, for example, independent experts, regardless of any political affiliations, assure us that criminality cannot be combated by harsher sentences, but rather with training and methodology of law enforcement authorities, one has to wonder if the criterion of the recently announced anti-crime measures was solely that of creating good impressions and nothing else.
As for entrusting the trial of felonies to single-judge courts in order to speed up the delivery of justice, I’m afraid that not even Vladimir Putin has attempted such an undertaking.
In order to test my argument on the absence of checks and balances, I would plead with the reader to answer, without cracking a smile, the following question: Would it ever be possible for the Maximos Mansion, the Greek PM’s office, to be investigated for a possible scandal, by order of a prosecutor, as occurred in Portugal two months ago?
The absence, therefore, of independent and effective institutional checks and balances, tasked with preventing deviations, mainly in the management of public funds and to hold those in power accountable, is the main cause of cachexia. This absence could be addressed with the use of imagination and daring, as well as the use of modern technology, so that our representative institutions may be bolstered, and the lost trust of our citizenry be regained.
In the United States, for example, there is an ongoing conversation on offering voters many more choices than simply the black-and-white two-party majority system. The state of Maine, which has long-established cumulative voting, is the only exception among the 50 states. The same goes for obligating senators and congressmen to be accountable to their constituents, conducting public and town hall meetings at regular intervals.
I am certain that in a hundred years’ time, schoolbooks of contemporary history will look kindly upon the 50 years since the Metapolitefsi era, which is marked in 2024. I want to believe that the final report will be a positive one, and in any case less boring, if the shortcomings I listed are dealt with in due course.
Nikos. K. Alivizatos is an emeritus professor at the University of Athens.
